


War Bride

by PeroxidePirate



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (Comic)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-02
Updated: 2009-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-04 02:25:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeroxidePirate/pseuds/PeroxidePirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because there's not enough f/f smut in my little corner of the internet... short Willow/Kennedy PWP. Really, no plot, just sex. No context, even, until the very end. Don't say I didn't warn you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Bride

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[btvs](http://peroxidepirate.livejournal.com/tag/btvs), [femslash](http://peroxidepirate.livejournal.com/tag/femslash), [kennedy](http://peroxidepirate.livejournal.com/tag/kennedy), [pwp](http://peroxidepirate.livejournal.com/tag/pwp), [willow](http://peroxidepirate.livejournal.com/tag/willow)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Fic: War Bride (Buffy, NC-17, 1150 words)**_  
**Title: **War Bride  
**Rating: **NC-17  
**Fandom: **_Buffy_  
**Disclaimer:** These characters and their universe are not owned by me.  
**Characters:** Willow/Kennedy  
**Summary/ Warning:** Because there's not enough f/f smut in my little corner of the internet... Willow/Kennedy PWP. Really. No context, even, until the very end. If that's gonna freak you out, stay away. Don't say I didn't warn you.

She's stretched out beneath me, hands out to the sides and fisted in the bedclothes so hard I think the sheets might rip. At moments like this, all that strength has to go somewhere. I'm flicking her clit, again and again, with the tip of my tongue, while both hands palm her breasts. She told me, the first time, that she doesn't care about penetration one way or another, as long as those three points are given enough attention. I can work with that.

Every one of her muscles is tight with arousal, and her breath is coming in little gasps. I stop licking and suck for a minute, and she draws in a deep gasp of breath and doesn't exhale.

That means she's close. I slide my hands down her slim, smooth body and wind the left one around to her butt, which is barely touching the bed. My right hand I slide between her legs, fingers poised at the opening of her cunt. She might not care about having me inside her, but I love the tight slickness of her flesh contracting around my hand. Sometimes it's almost enough to bring me off. I slide one finger in, then two, and plunge them as deep as I can. I haven't stopped tonguing her clit, and she exhales, finally, with a deep, throaty moan.

That's my signal. I give her one last lick, then draw my tongue back into my mouth and scrape my teeth gently across her clit.

Kennedy cries out, soaking my hand and the bedclothes, and my fingers are nearly crushed by her spasms. I grin up at her, even though her eyes are closed, and rest my head on one strong thigh. The tension drains from her body, and when she unwinds her hands from the sheets and caresses my head, I slide my fingers out of her.

She's done. There are other things I can do that will lead to many orgasms, but this much direct stimulation, and she's just good for one. One huge one.

"Hey," she murmurs, back in the land of the verbal. "Come here." Her voice is soft with pleasure, and it's a request, not a demand.

I move up to lie properly on top of her, and it feels good even though she's so slim. I miss Tara's lush softness less and less every time.

We kiss, but my tongue is tired and I let her lead. The metal stud in the center of her tongue sends shivers through my body, and I realize I'm grinding into her. She notices it, too, and grins up at me. "Your turn, baby."

We've tried the sixty-nine thing, and it's good if we're in a hurry. But we're so different that we almost never get there at the same time, and it's better just to take turns. To each focus on the other, for however long she needs.

She flips me onto my back, pinning my arms above my head, and I can't help groaning. "Didn't know we'd run into each other," she says. "So I didn't bring the handcuffs."

Her smile is pure wickedness, and I know mine must be, too. I take the hint, wrapping both hands around the hotel bed's headboard and vowing to hang on. "Didn't bring a lot of things."

"I'm resourceful," she whispers, right before her teeth catch my earlobe and her tongue stud dances along its edge.

She releases my ear and kisses her way down my neck and chest, alternately licking, sucking, and biting. It's probably going to show, later, but right now I don't care. One of her thighs is between mine, and I'm still pressing into it.

She smiles up through dark eyelashes, as she takes one nipple into her mouth. The metal stud rolls against it, making it harder yet, although I'm not sure how. That's Kennedy: doing things to me I didn't think were possible, and making them impossible to live without.

She eases her thigh away from my body, and I whimper at the loss of contact. Then her fingers slide between my folds, stroking steadily. The first time her fingertip brushes my clit, I arch up and it's almost enough to make me come. She reads me well, by now, and she knows that even though I might be physically ready, I want to draw this out. To make it last.

She withdraws fingers and tongue, although her other hand remains firmly wrapped around my wrists above my head. It's an illusion of control: slayer strength or not, I have power at my disposal that could throw her off in a second. She knows I won't use it.

"Willow," she whispers, and kisses me again. Her tongue slides past mine, and her thigh is back between my legs. I moan, feeling horribly empty inside. I need her fingers, at least.

My eyes are closed, but she's still on top of me, one hand still on my wrist. Then her lower body shifts, and something cool and hard is pressed against the mouth of my cunt.

"What?" I open my eyes, almost sitting up in surprise. I teleported in with only the clothes on my back, and she said she wasn't expecting me.

"Shh," she says, dark eyes laughing at me. "Lotion bottle. It's a little short, maybe, but...." she slides it into me, slowly, and I groan again. "I said I was resourceful."

"Never doubted it," I gasp, as she takes my other nipple into her mouth.

With one hand, she moves the bottle slowly in and out. The other hand lets go of my wrist and rests low on my belly, still and waiting, while her tongue curls around my breast. I'm still hanging onto the bed frame, pretending I'm bound there. Then I can't. I let go, and clutch, instead, at her bare shoulders. She grins, sliding up to kiss my neck again. The hand on my belly slips lower, thumb rubbing my clit, while her other hand keeps up its rhythm with the bottle.

"Harder," I say, through gritted teeth, and she complies with her mouth and both hands. At just the right moment, she gives me one last thrust and freezes in place. Everything falls away, and it's even better than flying.

 

The lotion bottle will never be the same, nor will the sheets -- but what are hotels for?

"What a view," she says, startled, looking out the window. The city's spread out below us, glittering and vast before a setting sun, and totally irrelevant right now.

I'm standing behind her, head on her shoulder, arms around her waist. "The view in here was pretty good, too."

She's back in her black ops uniform, bristling with stakes and knives. There's a war on, and no telling when we'll see each other again. I magick the elevator door closed and we kiss goodbye from the fifty-third floor all the way to the first.

On ground level, she walks out to meet the rest of her squad. I wait until she turns the corner before I teleport home with the artifact I came here to retrieve.


End file.
